Camp Zero

“Parthenogenesis?” Sal asked. “Asexual reproduction,” the biologist explained. “It’s a rare occurrence where female ants self-reproduce their offspring and give birth to a female brood.”

“Fascinating.” Sal tapped her finger against the glass box as the ants continued their ceaseless work. She looked up at us, and her normally stern face suddenly looked light and at ease. “They’ve figured it out.”

“What is it about men that makes them such deficient creatures?”

But perhaps life is lived on the periphery.

“Even simple men can have a complex agenda.”

To be malleable suggested a lack of definition. A lack of knowledge about one’s purpose. Was she really that uncertain who she was?

“Lobotomized.” Damien nodded. “That’s a common reaction to overuse. The user feels a distinct sensation of disconnection. Specifically, the cerebral cortex that archives memory darkens with prolonged use. It literally begins to shut down. We’ve run tests to prove it.”

“And you did what with these tests?”

“Absolutely nothing.” He grinned and popped another piece of jackfruit into his mouth.

“Why perform the tests, then?”

He looked at her with irritation in his eyes. “You’re smarter than this. Do you think I would continue to use something that endangered my brain? Or that I would allow you, or Avalon, or any of the clients who visit the Loop to risk erasure? We have solid evidence that the Flick erodes more memories with each year of use. By the time the first users are ready for retirement, all they’ll retain is what they had for breakfast.”

Some say the Zero is a tool of absence. Erasure. The nil. The pit. The gaping chasm of nothing. But I would argue that the Zero is also the first. The first number. The first phase. The first step to harness the power of the negative and imagine a different existence. The Zero shows us redemption can be found in the ashes of what we have burned.

“I have you. That’s all I need. So try to take care of yourself,” her mother said. “You only have this one life.”

Why do men take so easily whatever they want? Because nothing will ever be enough, she realizes. The more a man possesses, the more he thinks he deserves.

I’m growing used to the way I sound when I cry in the dark.

“But it’s a shit world, isn’t it?” Willow grabs Nari’s hand. “I need to hear it from you.”

“Of course it’s shit.” Nari squeezes her hand. “But it’s the only world we have.”